Boomer Bust
by LadyRainbow
Summary: An interstellar conflict turns personal for Travis and other members of the crew.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.**

**Notes: OK, I don't make it a habit to work on two ongoing multi-chapter stories at the same time (this and "Warrior Souls"), but this plot bunny with Travis wouldn't leave me alone, and we always could use another Travis story...poor guy's underused as it is. LOL**

**This story happens a few months after my first Travis story, "Captain Mayweather's Mission", after he's promoted to Lieutenant.**

**No spoilers, but R/S and T/T'P implied.**

**As usual: Comments and Reviews wanted and appreciated! Thanks! ;)**

Boomer Bust

Chapter One

Travis Mayweather entered the Mess Hall with a spring in his step. It was his day off and he meant to enjoy every minute of it. He glanced at the lunch selection and chose fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. Commander Trip Tucker had suggested the chicken and Travis could smell why. The delicious aroma made his mouth water. For the millionth time since the beginning of the _Enterprise_'s mission, he thanked Captain Archer for Chef's cuisine.

"Hello, Lieutenant! You seem to be in a good mood today."

He glanced up at Chef, who stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Chef's hands were covered with flour and his white shirt with spaghetti sauce, but the man wore a bright smile. Travis smiled back. "It's my day off, Chef."

"Ah, rest and relaxation. Enjoy it while you can, Lieutenant."

"I intend to, Chef!" The older man laughed at the enthusiasm in Travis's voice and disappeared into his sanctum. Travis scanned the tables, looking for a place to sit, but none of the Alpha shift crew was here yet. Then he saw Crewman Trieste sitting all by himself. Trieste was one of the gamma shift helmsmen; this would be the middle of the "night" for him. So why was Trieste up at this time? Travis decided to find out, and he made his way to Trieste's table.

Trieste looked up at him as he approached. "Lieutenant Mayweather," he greeted in a voice laden with exhaustion. There were dark circles around his eyes and his short blond hair was rumpled.

Travis frowned at Trieste's appearance. "Mind if I sit here, Philippe? Unless you'd rather be alone?"

"Go right ahead, but I'm afraid I won't be good company, sir." Trieste made a weak gesture at the chair next to him and Travis sat down. They ate in silence for a few minutes. At least, Travis ate; Trieste only pushed his pasta around his plate.

"Trouble sleeping?" Travis asked, concern in his tone. "You don't look too good, Philippe."

Trieste laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Yeah, a bit of trouble, sir. Got a recorded message from home. Said pretty much what I thought it would say."

"Oh?" The Trieste family owned a huge shipping company out of Alpha Centauri. Although Travis's family had never worked for Estelle de Montclaire Limited, Travis grew up with the stories of their enormous wealth. Captain Paul Mayweather, Sr. had avoided EdML like the plague, only saying that he didn't trust the Trieste family. Ironic that his son and Trieste's were good friends now on the _Enterprise_.

"Yeah, oh. The usual rant about my cousins, the other "competitors" on the market and the transit taxes in the Alpha Centauri system. He thinks it's highway robbery."

Travis nodded in sympathy. "For what it's worth, I have to agree with him. My brother complains about it too. Even before I left for the Academy, it cost more to haul ore from Alpha Centauri than anyplace else."

"Yeah, well, the other transport captains really hate it. Father's trying to mollify both them and the Centaurian officials, but it isn't working. You know his method of negotiation: wield the biggest sledgehammer and swing it so hard it breaks."

Philippe winced in embarrassment and Travis patted his shoulder. "Anyway, he wants me to come back to the family fold, continue the tradition, all that stuff. Being the only son and all that. I told him thanks, but no thanks. Starfleet's what I want and he can either accept it or just live with it."

Travis resisted a smile. From what Travis could piece together, René Trieste's attitude towards Philippe was similar to Admiral Stuart Reed's towards his son Malcolm. Both fathers thought they knew best for their sons and reacted badly when those sons chose otherwise.

_My dad wasn't exactly thrilled either when I didn't stay on the _Horizon_ and went to the Academy instead. So I suppose we all have that in common,_ Travis considered. He chose his next words carefully, and as he said them, he saw the _Enterprise_'s Tactical Officer in his mind's eye. "You know, Philippe, you're showing a lot of guts staying out here because you want to. That's something to admire."

The younger man dipped his head to hide a smile of embarrassment. "Thank you, sir---"

"It's Travis. If you need to talk, just give me a call, okay? Any time, day or night. I mean that."

" Okay---Travis." Trieste managed a smile and got up from the table. Travis watched him dispose of his still-full plate and leave through the Mess Hall doors. As he returned to his food, Travis found himself running his and Philippe's conversation through his mind. He hadn't heard anything from Paul Mayweather, his brother and _Horizon_'s current captain, but that didn't mean there wasn't any trouble ahead.

Maybe he ought to drop a line to the _Horizon_. Just because.

* * *

"How's the life on a starship, big brother?" Paul teased. He sat back in his seat and regarded Travis from the other end of the connection. Travis thought he looked more relaxed in his role as _Horizon_'s captain. It had been almost eight months since the brothers had seen each other last, but Paul still appeared the same as always. 

"The same. I fly the ship, we arrive at the next port of call, we deal with the COW, I fly us out again, and repeat," Travis answered in the same teasing tone.

"COW? You mean Starfleet's got you guys transporting cattle? And you keep joking about what we used to haul around when Dad was captain?"

Travis chuckled. "COW stands for Crisis of the Week. Our chief engineer coined the word."

Paul thought for a moment, then grinned widely. "Tucker? Yeah, sounds like something he'd come up with. One of his so-called 'Tripisms'? I gotta remember than one."

Travis laughed and said, "Yeah. It's good to see you again. I see captaincy agrees with you, Paul."

He shrugged. "It's all right. By the way, Mom says hi. She's up on the bridge right now; otherwise, she'd be looking over my shoulder at you. We're on our way to Branwith Station with some cargo, then a short hop to Alpha Centauri."

Travis winced. "Alpha Centauri? You're gonna go there? I remember Dad wasn't crazy about that place."

"I don't like that place, either, but that's the price of commerce. Just dropping off a few things."

" Yeesh. Heard they've upped some of the fees over there."

Paul scowled and Travis suddenly realized how much Paul resembled their father. He glanced over his shoulder as if confirming no one else was listening, then lowered his voice.

"Every kind of fee you can think of. Loading fees, docking fees, transit fees, it's ridiculous. They keep telling us it's so they can upgrade some of the facilities, but...I don't know." Paul shook his head and ran a hand through his short hair. "The Cargo Transit Authority's making some noise about it, but Alpha Centauri's an independent Earth colony, so that'll be all it is, noise."

"'The price of commerce', huh?" Travis said, not hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

Paul shrugged and squared his shoulders. "If that's the case, Alpha Centauri'll find itself in a hole in about ten years are so. Cargo transports are going to be avoiding docking there unless they absolutely have to. Not exactly what the Centaurians want. Even Old Man Trieste's getting involved in the act and that says something. He doesn't get involved unless it personally affects his precious holdings, namely EdML."

Travis remembered what Phillipe had told him during lunch. _Estelle de Montclaire Limited, the Trieste empire. _"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Anyway---" Paul waved his hand and changed the subject. "So, tell me, what's been going on in your part of the galaxy? Anything new about the lady with the languages and the guy with the itchy trigger finger? When's the big day?"

He laughed. "Paul, you gotta remember their names. You remember Trip Tucker, but not Hoshi and Malcolm?"

Paul's eyes twinkled. "I'm joking. Besides, that's how I usually think of them. They just seem like the galaxy's odd couple."

Travis thought about Trip and T'Pol and thought,_ You haven't seen the galaxy's odd couple, Little Brother._ Aloud, he replied, "They haven't set a date, but believe me, the minute I hear about it, I'll let you know..."

The two brothers shared all kinds of news up until their allotted time was over. After they'd said their good-byes and cut the connection, Travis thought about what Paul had told him...and not told him. Travis knew his brother's non-verbal language said just as much, and Travis guessed this news bothered Paul more than was obvious. What if other colonies followed Alpha Centauri's lead? Independent transports like the Mayweather's would be forced out of business, if not soon, then eventually.

Travis frowned and thought, _There has to be more than what we're seeing. I wonder..._Travis called up the Cargo Transit Authority's information link and began to read what was there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Thanks for the reviews! ;) Keep 'em coming!**

Two

"Um...a little more to the right, Commander. That's it. Now take it slowly." Travis shifted his weight as the safety harness he wore dug into his shoulders. The cable lines creaked as Trip Tucker lifted his foot and placed it onto a small stone ledge carved into the wall. Trip took a deep breath and hoisted himself up.

"God Almighty," Trip gasped. "I'm so out of shape. Good thing I've got ya to kick my butt out of Engineering. I didn't even know we had a rock-climbing wall in the gym."

Travis allowed himself a secret smile, for he had been a major force in getting the wall installed. He had connections within the Boomer community and managed to negotiate an even trade for the materials. Even Malcolm agreed that a little cardiovascular exercise would be good for the crew. "Yeah, well, it's one of the best-kept secrets on the Enterprise, Commander."

Trip chuckled and shook a cramp out of his hand. "And you've got the sharpest ear for secrets and rumors on board this ship too, Travis. How do ya do it?"

He gave the commander a look of complete innocence. "Do what?"

"Get people to tell ya stuff they wouldn't tell their momma."

He managed to shrug one shoulder. "I dunno. I guess you see and hear all kinda things growing up on a cargo ship. You learn pretty quickly when to talk and when to keep your mouth shut."

"Yeah, I can see that---whoops!" Trip's foot slipped out of its hold and he flailed about in empty space. The safety harness kept him from a long fall to the floor. Travis gritted his teeth as he braced himself against the engineer's weight. Slowly, he eased Trip back to the floor unharmed.

Trip blew out a breath and wiped sweat off his forehead. "Thanks, Travis. I'd have been flatter than a pancake."

"That's why you always need a spotter," Travis reminded him. "So you don't get one of your limbs broken or something."

The engineer's grin grew wider as he said, "Touché."

Travis laughed; he'd purposely set himself up for that one. He'd broken a leg while mountain climbing on Risa and on that frozen comet. He didn't hold the record for most consecutive days in Sickbay, though. Malcolm held that, with Trip not too far behind him.

"Commander, mind if I ask you a technical question?"

Trip wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel. "Sure, what's up?"

"Those new RH-900 super cargo tugs...what's your opinion on 'em? How do their Class Five engines compare with the Class Fours?"

Trip snorted. "Class Fives are overrated. Their output's only marginally better than the Fours. It's the same design, just repackaged worse than day-old sushi. Yeah, sure, the plasma injectors don't clog up as often and the manifolds are spaced more efficiently, but in my humble opinion---" He launched into a tirade about "reinventin' the wheel" and "triple-phase capacitors making the power tree more complicated".

Travis listened intently and nodded in the appropriate places. He'd spent the past two days researching Alpha Centauri's trading culture. The place hadn't changed much since the last time he'd been there, but where it had changed, it was drastic. Not only had the costs increased, but new technologies was making Class-Js and other transports obsolete. The RH-900 super cargo tugs, for example.

_Paul would just flip if the family switched to the RH-900s. He'd never give up the _Horizon_ easily and I don't blame him. It may be considered clunky and junky, but it's _home.René Trieste owned a couple of the new tugs, but he was a old Boomer at heart, and sympathized with the other Boomers. At least, that was what the grapevine claimed, but Philippe wasn't so sure. The young helmsman knew his father, and Trieste wasn't the stoic champion of equality and justice.

"Your brother thinkin' about getting one of those shiny new toys?"

He snorted. "Can't afford it, and I don't think he would even if he could afford it. Horizon's home, Commander, and Paul won't give it up."

"Even if the rest of the Boomer fleet decides to go with 'em?"

"Even if." Travis shrugged uncomfortably. "Paul's kinda old-fashioned that way. If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Trip gazed at him, his blue eyes unwavering. "But you don't agree with him."

He shrugged again and replied, "I can understand why he wouldn't. I think I'd be crushed too if the Horizon ended up on the scrap heap, you know. There're memories on that ship."

"But---"

"I'm not the captain; Paul is. It's his decision. If it came to the family livelihood or his own personal feelings, I'm sure he'd make the right one when it's time."

Trip shook his head and said, "You must love your brother very much, even if you don't agree with him at times."

Travis tried to lighten up the mood again with a smile. "He's my _brother_, Commander. We're gonna butt heads now and then."

"As long as you guys don't whup each other's butts beyond repair, I think that'll happen anyway." He punched Travis in the shoulder. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up. I have a dinner date with the Cap'n and don't you go on shift soon?"

"Yeah. I swapped shifts with Crewman Trieste. He hasn't been feeling well lately and I---" A sharp whistle interrupted him. Before he could react, Trip was at the com speaker at the wall and acknowledging the page. As usual, Hoshi Sato got to the point.

"Travis, Philippe Trieste has been brought to Sickbay, and he wants you down here."

_

* * *

_

Travis skidded to a stop in front of the Sickbay doors a split second before he ran right into them. He squeezed his lithe bulk as they automatically opened. Trip pounded after him, towel still around his neck. They both stopped short as they saw both Captain Archer and Lieutenant Sato at Philippe's bedside. Phlox hovered near the unconscious man's head as he checked the readout panel.

"What happened?" Trip demanded.

Hoshi sighed and shook her head. She squeezed Philippe's hand, then answered, "We received a priority message from Alpha Centauri, marked for him. He was just getting off-shift, so I gave it to him. Then his face went pale and he started shaking."

"I called him into my Ready Room so we could talk," Jon Archer added. The captain's brow was furrowed in concern and his lips were pressed tightly together. "That's when he collapsed. Malcolm and I had to drag him to Sickbay, then Malcolm went back up to the Bridge to keep an eye on things. Trieste came to for a brief moment right after Malcolm left, and begged Hoshi to call you."

Phlox broke into the conversation before Travis could panic. "It seems the crewman had a bad shock, which combined with his head cold, caused him to lose consciousness. This should wake him up." The hypospray hissed against Trieste's neck. "Ah, there we go."

Philippe stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at the concerned group standing around him and blushed. "Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean---"

Archer placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Crewman. You know, I thought only Lieutenant Commander Reed was the only one to catch head colds."

The young man winced at the joke. "I suppose I'm in good company, sir." He took a deep breath and called out hoarsely, "Travis?"

"I'm here, Philippe," Travis said. "Told ya to call me day or night, and so I'm here. What's wrong?"

Philippe's face twisted in pain as tears leaked from the corner of his eyes. "Oh, God, Travis, my father is dead!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Yeah, poor Phillipe, but he won't be alone. Travis and the others will take care of him.**

Three

Doctor Phlox had given the young helmsman a sedative; they were all concerned about his mental state after the heartbreaking news. He and Archer had walked a silent Philippe to his quarters.

"I'm taking him off the duty roster for a while," Archer said. "Tell him that he can take all the time he needs."

"I think someone should stay with him, Captain, just to make sure he's okay."

The captain nodded. "Stay with him, Travis. I'll send someone to relieve you in a few hours."

So Travis had stayed with Philippe as the younger man lay sleeping. The lines of grief were heavy on his face and his red-rimmed eyelids twitched. Travis remembered when he'd gotten the news about his own father's death. All the sorrow, the anger, the _regrets_, all the things left unsaid, all the apologies unmade...he could sympathize with what Philippe was going through now.

His gaze fell upon Philippe's desk. Like his own quarters, Phillipe had a large cork message board on the wall next to his computer. Pictures were tacked on its surface. Travis recognized René Trieste's image: an unsmiling, white-haired, blue-eyed man. The caption underneath was: _Mon Pere, 2149 15. Aout. _"My father, 15th of August 2149". On the opposite side of the board was one of a beautiful, blonde-haired woman, sitting in front of a fountain. The inscription underneath was in Philippe's flowing handwriting: _Maman. 2150 22. Avril Je t'aime. _"Mother, 22nd of April 2150. I love you."

_His mother?_ Travis wondered. She looked much younger than René, but Travis could see from whom Phillipe had inherited his delicate features. Between the two photos were sketches of flowers from Hydroponics, schedules and daily reminders. Right next to "Pick up laundry from Quartermaster's" was "Meet Lieutenant Sato for French Hour" and right next to that was "Weapons Training, Lieutenant Commander Reed, Armory."

Travis smiled at the various meal invitations scattered haphazardly on the board. Who knew that someone that shy could make so many friends on the Enterprise? He chuckled to himself at the contradiction.

After four hours, the doorbell chimed. "Come in," Travis whispered.

Hoshi came in, as silent as a ninja, and put a hand on Travis's shoulder. "I'll take over, Travis. Get some rest."

"Thanks, Hoshi," he said with a smile. He got out of the chair and left as Hoshi took over. As he made his way back to his quarters, he wondered about the fallout from René Trieste's death. What did it mean for Philippe and his family?

He dreaded what would happen next.

* * *

It happened far faster than Travis expected. The summons took him completely by surprise. "Lieutenant Commander Reed, Lieutenant Mayweather, please report to the Captain's Ready Room." 

Travis and Malcolm glanced at each other from their Bridge stations, but they both reported as ordered. Archer sat behind his desk, his computer screen blank for the moment. He looked up at Travis and Malcolm and waved them to seats out of sight of the screen.

"Admiral Forrest is on the line, gentlemen, and I want you to listen in on this conversation. It concerns Crewman Trieste and his family's corporation, but I don't want Forrest to know you're here. Don't say anything and don't attract attention to yourself."

"Sir---?" Travis asked. _Why did the Captain ask us to sit in on this talk with Admiral Forrest? Isn't this supposed to be private? Doesn't make sense._

"You want us to eavesdrop on you and Admiral Forrest?" Malcolm echoed in a neutral tone. He seemed as wary as Travis. After all, listening in on a conversation between superior officers was awkward, to say the least, especially when one of them was unaware of it.

Archer shrugged. "I'll explain afterwards. Now, sit and listen."

Travis sat in one of the side seats of Captain Archer's Ready Room, out of sight of Archer's computer viewscreen. Malcolm occupied the chair on Travis's right. After a moment, Archer and Forrest exchanged greetings. Then Forrest asked,"How is the young man doing, Jon?"

Archer shook his head. "Not well, sir. Crewman Trieste took the news quite hard. I knew he and his father didn't get along, but Trieste still respected his father."

"His father was an important figure in Centaurian and Terran politics. His death has ripped a hole in those relations. René was the only one holding the wolves at bay and now that he's gone, Alpha Centauri's status as a trade partner is in jeopardy."

Travis and Malcolm exchanged curious glances, but Archer ignored them. "Alpha Centauri's an Independent Colony, isn't it?"

"Technically, it is, Jon...but Earth has a vested interested in its stability. There are plenty of company moguls who want René's position; their infighting will tear Alpha Centauri apart, and it's close enough to Earth to affect trade here." Forrest paused, and Travis saw the scowl deepen on Archer's face. "Estelle de Montclaire Limited _requests_ that Philippe return to Alpha Centauri. They want him to take up his father's work as head of the company."

"'_Requests_'?" Archer repeated. Travis's eyes widened at the word, while Malcolm wore a tight smile. They all heard the quotation marks. "It was my understanding that Crewman Trieste formally cut all ties to his family's corporation when he joined Starfleet. He's not even considered part of their executive board."

Forrest sighed. "That's what I thought, too. His family never...formalized the agreement. Technically, and legally, Philippe is the heir to the Trieste empire. He has to go back, even to just settle EdML's affairs. He's still indebted to take care of the...fallout."

"God," Archer groaned. "Poor Philippe, having to deal with this mess on top of losing his father."

Travis leaned back in his seat. How could they? How could they put Philippe through this? He'd renounced his claim to EdML; he didn't want any part of the the political backstabbing and intrigue. Why couldn't they respect Philippe's wishes?

To Travis's surprise, there was a sympathetic glint in Malcolm's eyes. The armory officer's jaw was set. _Like father, like son_, Travis realized. _Philippe's an only son like Malcolm is. At least Paul was willing to captain the _Horizon _in my place. __Philippe and Malcolm don't _have _anyone else to take up the slack. I wonder if Malcolm sees a younger version of himself._

Forrest's chuckle was ironic. "I don't envy the young man, but René raised him to be loyal to his family. He's very much his father's son. That aside, Earth has a stake in Alpha Centauri's stability. Jon, your orders are to send Philippe back in a shuttle with an escort. I'd send the Enterprise herself, but the Triestes have made it clear they don't want an incident. There are many factions that will react badly to the appearance of a military ship."

"We're under a mission of peace, Admiral. We're not going to---"

"I know. That's what I told them, but they were adamant about it. Basically, they want us to sneak him under their rival's noses. We need to protect him at all costs." At Archer's protest, he said, "Those are your orders, Captain. I'm sorry about all the subterfuge, but there's so much at stake here."

Archer set his jaw. "Yes, sir."

"Forrest, out."

There was a pause, then Archer blew out a frustrated breath. "So, that's pretty much what I expected. From what I understand of Philippe's family, this kind of thing is normal business tactic for them. Gentlemen, your observations?"

Travis nodded grimly and added, "EdML has a lot of influence in the sector, Captain. It doesn't really surprise me they're arranging things how they want them. I didn't know Philippe renounced his claim; I'd thought he kept close tabs on what was going on back home."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. He was about to say something, then changed his mind and focused his attention on the captain."I can see where their paranoia's justified. Crewman Trieste is the only son of a powerful shipping magnate. He's their last hope, so to speak. Their rivals will probably try to kill or kidnap him to tip the balance in their favor. Admiral Forrest thinks a low-key approach is best in this case."

Archer nodded. "I have to agree with that, Malcolm."

"And did you notice that Admiral Forrest referred to them only as 'René' and 'Philippe'? By their first names?"

Archer's scowl became fierce again. Travis blinked, for he hadn't noticed either, but that was why Malcolm was the Armory and Tactical Officer. "No, I hadn't," Archer said slowly, "but you're right."

"Maybe the admiral has stock in EdML," Travis suggested, but even as he said the words, he could see Malcolm's point.

"Perhaps, but my instincts tell me that Admiral Forrest may be more than just a preferred stockholder in this case. He's got more at stake than just Earth's position in this matter."

Archer was silent as he weighed everything he had heard. Travis didn't know what to say, for he knew Admiral Forrest was the captain's friend and mentor. After a few minutes, Archer nodded to himself and spoke in tones of command.

"I want you two to accompany Philippe back to Alpha Centauri. Travis, you're his friend, and you have knowledge about the business and shipping sectors there. Malcolm, you're there for security and reconnaissance. Make sure nothing happens to Philippe, during the trip or when he's there. I can see the Triestes forcing Philippe to stay, no matter how he feels about it."

Travis nodded grimly. "I can see that too, but we'll make sure that doesn't happen, right, Commander?"

"Indubitably," Malcolm agreed.

"All right, gentlemen, get your gear together and make whatever arrangements you need. I'll talk to Philippe. Dismissed."

Both of them turned and went back out to the Bridge. Travis waited until they were in the turbolift before he spoke. "Why do I have the feeling we're walking into a den of snakes? With the lights off?"

A slight smile passed over Malcolm's face. "I'll make sure we have torches and plenty of anti-venom, Lieutenant."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Notes:**

** I posted an earlier version of this, but didn't like it much, so I redid it and reposted it here. **

**To understand the deal with Travis and the _Raven_, see my earlier story, "Captain Mayweather's Mission" **

**BTW, my French is decent, but I'm not fluent like Hoshi or Malcolm, so please don't shoot me if my grammar's wrong.**

**R/S implied.**

Four

Travis sat on his bunk, trying to read the ghost stories on his PADD, but the laughter and raucous voices distracted him. He glanced up at the table and didn't bother to hide his smile. Malcolm had just taken Philippe's rook, and checkmated Philippe. He let fly a whole set of curses in French, his hands animated as he shouted his displeasure. Malcolm only smirked.

"_Touch__é, mon ami. Pardon, Monsieur."_

Philippe's voice was sarcastic. "_D'accord, Monsieur. Je vous dois combien?"_

Malcolm made a show of checking his PADD. _"Vingt-cinq _credits _cinquante_."

"_L'année prochaine," _Philippe replied sourly.

"Huh?" Travis asked. "_Anglais, s'il vous plait._ Can I have a translation, please? I'm not Hoshi._"_

Malcolm laughed. "_Elle est plus jolie que lui."_

Philippe scowled as he turned to Travis. "I asked him how much I owed him and he told me twenty-five credits and fifty. I told him he could expect it next year---."

Travis turned his mock expression of disbelief to Malcolm. "For God's sake, man, don't mess with my honorary helmsman! He's liable to steer us into an asteroid and then where would we be?"

Malcolm laughed and threw back his head. The gray streaks in his hair made him look like a mad scientist. "As your tactical and sensory specialist, I don't think I'd let that happen, eh?"

Philippe wasn't finished. "And he said that Hoshi is prettier than you are."

Travis rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll admit that one."

"Come on, Travis, he just insulted you!"

"Philippe. You're talking about a man who plays with phase pistols and torpedoes for a living. Do you really want him to shoot you out of a torpedo launcher? Besides, Hoshi is prettier than me, and I'm not going to argue with said linguist's beau. All right?"

"Good man. A ship's captain knows how to make a tactical retreat, eh, Travis?"

Travis grinned at the private joke and went back to his PADD. _I'm glad they get along so well. It's weird how Malcolm changes when he doesn't have to worry about the fraternization rules. I see it when he's around Hoshi; good to see that he considers Philippe like the kid brother he never had. _That was a good way to describe it. When Malcolm had told him his French was "passable", Travis fully expected that it was better than his own French by far. Of course, the modest Armory officer had played down his linguistic skills. There were advantages, Travis reflected, to having the Enterprise's comm officer as your girlfriend.

The intercom chime rang next to Travis and he reached over casually to answer it. "Yeah?"

"Do you gentlemen need anything?" came the harried voice of the shuttle steward. It had been a long night on the _Bernette_ as they'd crawled from Risa towards their first stop, Auring Five.

"You don't happen to have any more of those barbeque wings from the galley, Jerry?" Travis asked. "I've got a serious case of the munchies."

The steward chuckled, though he still sounded tired. "No problem, Captain Raymond. No offense, sir, but I'm glad you have less complicated tastes than your companions."

Travis grinned as he slipped into his "Captain Raymond" persona. "I guess barbeque wings and beer's more my style. I don't deal with the fancy stuff."

"Boomer, eh?"

"Through and through, Jerry. No red wine and _pomme frites_ for me, thank you."

"You sound like the only sensible one in that cabin, sir. I'll send those wings and throw in a complimentary pitcher of beer."

"Charge it to their account. I don't think they'll mind."

That earned him a loud guffaw from the steward, then Travis closed the connection. At least he'd been able to lighten someone's mood tonight. He glanced at the table to see both Philippe and Malcolm gazing at him.

"What?" he asked with a shrug.

"_Pomme frites_ are what the Americans call 'French fries'," Malcolm said primly. "If that's what you call 'complicated tastes'---"

Travis chuckled and shrugged again. "What can I say? I'm a simple man."

Phillipe grinned and threw himself on the bunk next to Travis. It was good to see the young man smiling again after the past few days. Even now, the baseball cap sat askew on Philippe's head, giving him a rakish look. He certainly didn't look like the heir to an economic empire. "You know, this kinda thing was one of my childhood fantasies."

"Your childhood fantasy was to share a cabin with me and Malcolm and argue whether '_pomme frites'_ counts as exotic cuisine?"

Philippe grabbed a pillow and threw it at Travis, who caught it easily. "No. I wanted to experience what a normal Boomer pilot would. You know, going from place to place, not worrying about extra security or what the governor of the colony would think if you used the wrong fork at the reception."

Travis threw it back at Philippe. "Yeah, it has a certain appeal, but it isn't all excitement and danger. It's a long trip between ports, and either you're bored stiff or you're hoping your transport survives long enough to get to where you're going. Of course, that's why you end up thinking about ways to distract yourself."

"Uhm," Malcolm murmured, and Travis blushed. In fact, Travis himself was a result of his parents' efforts to "distract" themselves on a long trip. It took a minute for Philippe to understand, and when he did, his face blushed even hotter than Travis.

Travis decided to change the subject. "At the clothes are decent. Which, by the way, reminds me.."Who's your tailor on Risa, Malcolm?"

Malcolm settled back in his chair with an easy sprawl. His cap was tilted at an angle and gave his features a piratical look. His open pilot's vest was of black leather, with various cargo ship patches sewn on it. His white shirt was tucked into black breeches, and a laser pistol was worn low on his right hip. All in all, Malcolm cut a dashing figure.

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "What's wrong with what I picked out?"

"Nothing. I think it looks good. Just wondered if he could make me a get-up like yours."

Thanks to Malcolm's and Jon Archer's arrangements, the three of them had been transformed into three shuttle pilots, out on Risa for some days of drinking before catching the _Bernette _to new jobs at Alpha Centauri. He didn't question Malcolm's connections, but whoever they were, they knew how to do undercover missions. Not only did they provide authentic clothes, but they'd altered their appearances. Philippe now sported black hair and a goatee, while Malcolm had gray in his hair and Travis wore several diamond studs in his ears.

Malcolm laughed. "I'll be sure to tell him when we get back. Though I daresay that a red shirt would suit your coloring better."

"Yeah, and gold thread on the vest," Philippe piped up. "_Magnifique."_

"_Mais oui_."

Whatever Travis was about to say was interrupted by the door chime; he went over to pick up the order of barbeque wings and the pitcher of beer. Travis noticed that Malcolm had placed his hand lightly on his laser pistol the entire time, and he didn't relax until the steward had left.

"It's safe," Philippe said, as he scanned the food and drink without Malcolm's prompt. It gave Travis a distinctly uncomfortable feeling to see him slip into professional paranoia. _Considering that his family 'forgot' to file his resignation, I don't blame him for jumping at shadows. They're nasty people._

Philippe nodded at Malcolm, then turned back to Travis. "Mind sharing?"

"As long as you don't mind that it isn't raw oysters and red wine, Philippe," Travis joked.

"Don't worry. I hate raw oysters anyway. _Maman_ did too. She called it 'snot on a half shell'. Of course, never in Father's company."

Travis nearly spit out his beer and Malcolm roared and said, "'Snot on a half shell'? I don't think I've ever heard it referred to that way...though it fits. That sounds like something Trip would say."

"I think the Commander would've gotten along with my mother," Philippe said, but didn't elaborate on it further as they dug into the food and beer. By the time they'd finished the entire platter, and most of the pitcher, Philippe was already snoring in his bunk, and Travis was drowsy in his.

"G'night," Travis mumbled as he switched off his bed lamp.

"Good night, Travis. Sleep well."

Just before Travis drifted off, he thought he saw Malcolm pull out a silver charm on a chain around his neck and passed his thumb over its surface. Then Travis fell asleep.

They arrived at Auring Five the next morning without incident. As they waited for another transport to take them on their next leg of the trip, Travis mingled with other transport captains and their crews. He overheard bits of information about the new trade routes. Many of the Boomers were banding together, informally, to protect each other.

"Ah, young Captain," said a Varlon. His large, gray-green eyes gave him a wistful look as he shook his head at Travis. They sat in the spaceport's bar, nursing a couple of ales. The Varlon's extra joints enabled him to hold his mug at an angle that was impossible for a Human. "I envy you, taking command of a new transport at Alpha Centauri. The optimism of youth. What's the name of it again?"

"The _Raven_," Travis answered. It was an inside joke between him and Malcolm. A few months before, he'd challenged the Armory officer to a tactical simulation. His "transport" had been named the _Raven_, and he took that as the name of his "new command".

"I'm not familiar with that name. Is it an RH-900?"

"Nope, can't afford that. It's a good old-fashioned Class-J."

" Well, if you ever need any assistance, look up the _Kitarra_ and Captain Dhoaliu. I'll be pleased to share a cargo run with you on the new Centauri/Vega route."

Travis grinned and raised his mug; Captain Dhoaliu tapped it with his own to seal the deal. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."

As he was heading back to the waiting area, he found his way blocked by a massive figure. "You, Pilot," a rough voice called. "You don't look like any cargo captain I know."

Travis looked up at speaker, a huge Tellarite, with a coarse porcine snout and shaggy brown hair. He wore a vest similar to Travis's: brown leather with red trim and a captain's patch on the shoulder. Despite the Tellarite's manner, his clothes fit him well, and there was a shrewd intelligence in his eyes.

Travis narrowed his eyes. "What makes you say that?"

"I've never seen you round here before, and I know all the cargo captains on the Centauri routes."

Travis crossed his arms and said, "I'm new on the Centauri run. I used to do the Draylax/Vega route, but I've got a new employer. So what's it to you?"

"Draylax/Vega, eh? Then you'd probably know about the Sharyu Corridor, then?"

Travis chuckled. "'In like a lamb, out like a lion'. Gotta go in slow, pick it up midway, then shoot out the other end at maximum warp. Then you gotta put on the brakes at the right time, or you'll be a crater in the Ghorsa satellite."

"Takes a good hand on the helm."

"Damn straight."

The Tellarite eyed him. "Can you do it?"

Travis eyed him with a suspicious air. "My father said that I'm the best stick and rudder man he'd ever trained. I've done the Sharyu in my sleep."

"Really? Well, that's a start, young one," the Tellarite said, his voice not quite sarcastic. "Would you like to show me?"

"Tempting, but not interested right now. Going to Centauri to take command of my new ship."

"Ah, and I bet you're eager to be on your own bridge, but what if I told you this will be quite profitable for you, especially for a new captain with a new ship." He leaned forward and whispered a price. Travis blinked, then blinked again.

Travis's suspicions deepened. "Who're you working for? EdML? Christ, they're the only ones I know who can pay someone that much."

"I'm working for Guillem Montclaire, the counselor of EdML's board."

Travis nearly sputtered._ "What?"_

The Tellarite misinterpreted his outburst. "Yes, I know EdML doesn't hire non-humans for their runs, but they've decided to broaden their horizons." Travis groaned at the words, and the Tellarite smiled. "They're going to dominate this sector, and I'm going to get a piece of the profit. Perhaps we can strike some kind of deal...if you help me out this run, I can help you with some of the extra fees for your new ship at Alpha Centauri."

Travis pretended to mull it over, but inside he was shaking. "How would you do that?"

"The increase in fees has hurt many of us---"

"Obviously not you, if you work for EdML."

The Tellarite ignored his jibe. "The only way we can survive is to band together. How about a quarter of the profits to you, to use for your new ship."

Travis regarded him with a cold expression. "So I'd be indebted to EdML for my ship."

"Who said I'd tell EdML about our little arrangement? Guillem Montclaire will never be the master; Trieste's son will put him in his place, once he arrives with a Starfleet task force to do his bidding."

Travis choked again. "He's got a _Starfleet task _force? Where the hell did you hear that?"

" Trieste's son is on _Enterprise,_ is he not? So he's going to bring it to make Montclaire step down," the Tellarite said in a reasonable voice. "Trieste's son is none of our concern; we were negotiating for you, and your ship."

"Um...yeah..."

" Consider the payment a personal gift from me, Captain Sandosh Bhunra. As I said, we Boomers have to band together, and I can tell you'll be an excellent captain." Captain Sandosh lowered his voice. "I'll be at Docking Port 44 until twelve-thirty, and I hope to see you there." The Tellarite bowed with a flourish and made his way through the crowd.

"_Mierde_,_" _Travis cursed, one the few French words he actually knew. _What the hell am I gonna tell Philippe?_ Sometimes the rumors on the Boomer Grapevine was even wilder than the _Enterprise_'s, and suddenly, it made their mission even more complicated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Our guys get into more trouble. Lots of trouble. **

Five

Travis swore under his breath as he made another circuit around the spaceport. He checked all the lounges, the bar and the observation ports. The food court turned up empty. The gaming tables were crowded with non-Humans. So where were they? He feared their cover had been blown and their mission compromised.

_Malcolm's the best in the business. He'd get Philippe to safety no matter what the cost. Unless he'd been incapacitated in some way or he'd been kil--- _Travis shied away from that thought. The Armory Officer had survived before; he wasn't dead.

"Captain! Captain Raymond!" A Khorian scampered up to Travis as fast as its little legs could carry him. Its face reminded Travis of a huge rat with six-inch fangs and an overdose of hair stimulant. The extra-long tail whipped around and nearly smacked Travis in the face.

"Whoa!" he automatically reached out a hand to steady the Khorian as it skidded to a stop. "You need to reverse those thrusters, kid, before you collide with a Klingon. Who are you and how did you know my name?"

"I'm Thor, Captain Sandosh sent me, and your friends are at Dock 46 with some nasty fe'fach." The Khorian tugged at Travis's arm. "Come! Come!"

Travis didn't argue. They pushed their way through the crowd and squeezed into a turbolift headed for the docking ports. It wasn't hard to locate the right deck; people rushed past them in the opposite direction as the sounds of weapons fire echoed off the steel walls. He borrowed some curse words from Hoshi as he waded through the stampede. A fight usually meant "Run the other way", and sometimes, that included the spaceport's security.

Dock 46's doors had been blown open. Travis unholstered his blaster and plunged through them, tucking himself into a roll and coming up behind some tall boxes of supplies. He managed to spot an unconscious Philippe in the arms of a burly, green-skinned Orion.

_Orions? Oh, hell!_ Just as Travis had the thought, a laser sliced through the air and pierced the Orion's shoulder; he howled and staggered back, dropping Philippe like a sack of potatoes. The entire docking bay shuddered as a concussion hit the place. Travis blinked and found himself plastered against the opposite wall from where he'd been hiding. Suddenly, his legs refused to hold him up and he slid to the deck.

"Oh, you poor dear," cooed a feminine voice. "You're hurt. Let me take care of you. That's a nasty bump on your head...shall I kiss it and make it better? Or would you rather I do something else?"

Travis opened his eyes to see an Orion woman standing over him. She was about Hoshi's height, with clear blue eyes and black hair spilling over her shoulders. She licked her lips and ran a finger down his jaw. Despite himself, Travis shivered at her touch. He couldn't move, despite his efforts, and his mind screamed in agony. She reached for something at her belt, a jeweled collar attached to a chain.

"You're pretty. Maybe I should just keep you for myself, hmmm? I think I can convince Montclaire to leave you to me—-"

A massive fist came out of nowhere and slammed into the back of the woman's head. She dropped like a stone, the collar clattering to her side. To Travis's shock, Captain Sandosh pulled him roughly to his feet. "Shake it off, boy!" he growled. "You Humans go weak-kneed at the smell of a woman!"

Travis looked across the bay. Another Orion woman carried Philippe up the ramp to a cargo tug, and a third dragged a semi-conscious Malcolm close behind. To Travis's horror, he had one of those collars around his neck, but he was still fighting. His captor looked down at him with the expression of an mother indulging a small child. She pushed a button on her bracelet and a crackle of energy went through Malcolm's body. He didn't even have time to cry out; the shock was enough to paralyze him long enough to be dragged up the ramp.

"They're getting away!" chittered Thor as he skidded to a stop next to Travis.

"I know where they're going," Travis said. "Alpha Centauri. Captain Sandosh, looks like I'm gonna take your offer for a ride."

Sandosh grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Pleased to have you with us. Let's get back to the _Vhrum._ We have friends waiting for us."

"_Vhrum_ ?" Travis asked with a smile. "Vhroom?"

"I've heard all the Human jokes. Don't even start, Captain Raymond."

The _Vhrum _was a Class J transport and by the time it left the dock, the tugs were already approaching the edge of the system. Travis was close to panicking, but Sandosh seemed calm as they settled on a pursuit course. The Tellarite glanced back at him with a serene expression.

"We've had upgrades," he said. "Engine room."

"Yeah? We're all ready to go down here, Cap'n."

Travis started at the familiar voice._ What the---he _can't_ be here, it's impossible..._

"Take us to full impulse." The engines surged at the command and suddenly, Auring Five was shrinking to a dot in the viewscreen. Sandosh seemed to be enjoying Travis's stunned state. "Take us to warp as soon as we clear the system."

"Warp?" Travis squeaked. He felt as if he was losing control of the situation. Not that he had much control over it anyway. "This bucket has warp?"

"I told you we have upgrades," Sandosh said. "My engineer tells me that Class Five engines are overrated."

The turbolift doors opened behind them and two Humans stepped onto the Bridge. Travis stared at the grinning face of Commander Trip Tucker. He grabbed Travis into a bear hug and Travis laughed at the unexpected reunion."Remember what I said, if ya ever needed an engineer, I'd sign up? Ya got yourself one bonafide engineer, Cap'n."

"Ah, thanks---" His gaze fell on the woman standing next to him. Hoshi Sato also wore a smile, but it was tinged with worry. Travis reached for her and pulled her into a welcoming hug.

"Travis," she said.

"We'll get them back, Hoshi," he murmured. "Both of them."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**A little lull in the action, but you learn a lot of things in this chapter, such as how Hoshi and Trip caught up with them, and some of the twisted politics behind EdML.**

**More action in chapter 7, I promise. ;)**

**R/S implied.**

Six

Captain Sandosh called them to his private dining room. It was much smaller than Captain Archer's on the _Enterprise_, barely large enough for a square table and four chairs. A large bowl of soup sat in the middle of the table, with platters of sweetmeats and fruit all around it. Travis made his way steadily through his second bowl of soup and a platter of _luyn'tna_ fruit. Despite the crisis, he was famished. As they ate, Trip and Hoshi took turns telling Travis what had happened since his leaving the _Enterprise._

"Right after Risa, we were called to Nabut Eight," Trip began. "The huge outpost for the Jamirans. Apparently, there was some kinda dispute between two of the factions and Admiral Forrest wanted the cap'n to mediate. So we get there, and while he and T'Pol are busy arguin' with the Jamirans, Hoshi gets a message from Cap'n Sandosh here."

Hoshi nibbled on a piece of _luyn'tna_, then set it aside. She nodded at Sandosh, who nodded back. "EdML had appointed Guillem Montclaire, Philippe's uncle, as the temporary head of their executive board. Montclaire's spy network extends far beyond Alpha Centauri. Somehow they'd picked up on your trail, Travis."

"But Malcolm's contacts said our cover was damn near foolproof---"

Trip looked up, his face suddenly grim. "Harris."

"_What?"_ Travis sank back in his chair, his appetite abruptly gone. "Harris, as in Section 31, Harris? Malcolm's old boss? The bastard betrayed us to EdML?"

Hoshi's face was a thundercloud and Travis was suddenly afraid of her, very afraid. He imagined her with a katana in her hands and hoped that Harris would get what was coming to him. "He claims he didn't, but if it wasn't him, someone in his organization did. When Captain Archer found out, he hit the roof and went through it. That's when we realized Forrest had sent us to Nabut as a diversion, to get us out of the way. Jon decided to hell with it; we were going to get you guys back."

Travis blinked; he'd heard her swear before, but not with such vehemence. Trip gave him a knowing look, then continued, "But he couldn't break orders, or Forrest would've known somethin' was up, so he sent the two of us in a shuttlepod to meet up with Captain Sandosh. We hitched a ride at high warp to Auring Five and got here only moments before you did. We were too late to save Philippe and Malcolm, but luckily, Sandosh knew where you were."

Travis chuckled. "Considering we were on a impulse-only transport, you guys must've made damn good time to catch us all the way from Nabut."

Captain Sandosh laughed and slapped Trip on the back, nearly dislodging the piece of meat from his mouth. "Didn't I tell you my ship has had some upgrades? I've been a good friend of Sandrine Trieste for a long time; she's interceded on my behalf before."

"Sandrine Trieste. Philippe's mother." Travis nodded sadly. "You were friends with her."

" A good woman, may the Great Sow bless her soul. I wish I could say the same for her mate." The Tellarite shook his head. "I served her, not EdML, as long as she lived. Then she met with an accident, and her husband dismissed me from the family's service."

"So you knew Philippe, then."

"Yes, I did. I taught him how to handle a ship, much to his father's chagrin. I told Monsieur Trieste that if Philippe was going to succeed him, he'd better learn how to pilot a transport, like his mother's ancestors, when they blazed a trail through the stars."

"Montclaire was his mother's maiden name," Travis said slowly. "René Trieste married into the family and assumed leadership of EdML. I remember Philippe telling me that much, but he also told me he'd renounced his claim. Someone 'forgot' to file the papers."

"His mother."

"His mother?" Trip repeated, his eyes going wide. "Why the hell did she 'forgot'?"

Sandosh sighed and looked down at his uneaten meat. "She objected to her son's decision to enter Starfleet, Commander. With Philippe out of the succession, Guillem Montclaire would assume control if anything happened to the Triestes. Sandrine's brother is a _krakhu_, Travis. He's worse than Trieste himself. She...was an overprotective mother, but she meant well, in her own way."

_Overprotective, selfish, short-sighted..._Travis held his tongue, for he knew Philippe adored his late mother. Obviously, he hadn't known just who had preserved his claim.

"To choose between her son and the company," Hoshi murmured. Travis glanced at her sharply, then she added, "Tradition. She reminds me of Stuart."

"Stuart---?" It took him a minute to understand._ Admiral Reed---Malcolm's dad? She actually calls him _StuartHe'd have to ask her about that later; for some reason, that sounded, well, odd, to his ears. Apparently, from Trip's reaction, he wasn't the only one who found that odd.

He forced himself to concentrate on the present. "So now, Guillem's in charge, and he wants Philippe dead. I bet he was the one who contracted the Orions to get rid of Philippe, and Malcolm just happened to get caught up in the mess." Travis sighed and shook his head. He no longer had any appetite at all. "Some captain I am. I go off and try to get information and while I'm gone, two of my people get kidnapped by the Orions."

He felt Trip's hand on his shoulder and Hoshi's reassuring squeeze on his other hand. "No one could've predicted the Orions would've known who Philippe and Malcolm really were. It wasn't your fault. All we gotta do is get 'em back."

The intercom chimed and Captain Sandosh said, "_hu'reen, so btralion?" _At least, that was what it sounded like, interspersed with high pitched squeals. Trip winced, but Hoshi didn't seem affected by the volume. In fact, she listened with interest.

"_Sdkhi, brtheia, kapitan," _came the reply. "_Er'thai uugahan."_

"We're closing in on them," Sandosh said with a look of triumph. "Soon, we shall have them."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Some action and some romance...kind of.**

**R/S pairing**

**Seven**

Travis and Hoshi joined Captain Sandosh in the tiny lift, while Trip headed for the engine room. It was even tighter than the one on_ Horizon; _Travis was careful not to bump too close against Hoshi. He really didn't want to face Malcolm's wrath...or Hoshi's. He glanced sideways and caught her expression; she looked caught between horror and humor. Being in tight quarters with a Tellarite was not something either of them wanted to repeat.

A roar knocked the ship sideways. Travis stumbled and grabbed the railing as Hoshi flew backwards into him. The air rushed from his lungs; he blacked out for several seconds before he managed to claw back to consciousness. She cursed in several languages as gravity failed for a minute, then came back in full force. Travis winced as she slammed into him again. _She's heavier than she looks_, he thought.

"You all right?" she asked, her voice shaky and high pitched.

"Yeah," he wheezed. "I'm okay. Sandosh?"

Sandosh had wedged his portly body into the corner and reached for the comm, but his short, stubby arms weren't long enough to reach it. Travis twisted enough to hit the button with his elbow. "Bridge, report!" Sandosh roared.

"We were struck by some kind of dispersal wave," chittered Thor. "No damage to any decks or cargo holds."

"Dispersal wave? Like an anomaly?" Travis asked, as he gently pushed Hoshi's hair away from his face. _Enterprise_ had seen its share of anomalies, but none had ever come this close.

There was more Tellarite swearing on the Bridge, mixed with Thor's high-pitched squeals. Hoshi winced at the volume of it; Travis squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. Then Thor returned with, "It looks like some kind of random pulse---"

Trip interrupted from the engine room. "Warp's off line, Captain Sandosh, We've got power out at Junctures A, C and D. Rerouting now."

"Um..Trip, we're stuck in the lift," Travis grated out. "Can you speed it up a little bit?"

"Please?" Hoshi squeaked. She sounded panicked, and Travis remembered her claustrophobia. Being squashed between him and Sandosh in a dark lift was the equivalent of Hell for her. Travis put a hand on her arm and tried to calm her down.

"Breathe, Hosh," he whispered. "Breathe. We're gonna be fine. It's gonna be okay. Breathe with me."

She nodded and tried to slow down her gasps. Trip must have overheard, for he said, "I'm on it, Travis. Hang on."

Thor came back on the line with another squeal. "We've located the Orion's tug, Captain! They've been disabled by the wave as well, worse off than us!"

"Define 'worse', Thor," asked Sandosh.

"Looks like their engines are completely gone, and they're sending out a distress signal."

Travis blew out a frustrated breath. It was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm in the lift, not to mention Hoshi's body pressing on his was giving him thoughts he'd much rather not have. _Malcolm would kill me. Slowly. _She'd calmed down a little, but he could still feel her racing heartbeat. He focused on their dilemma to distract himself. "We're the only ones close enough to them to be any good, right, Thor?"

"That's right, Captain Travis."

"_Captain_ Travis now," Sandosh chuckled. He shifted out of his corner with an audible pop, and Travis winced at the sound. Hoshi jumped. "Hail them, Thor, and route the comm channel here. _Captain_ Travis will speak to them."

"What?" Thor squeaked.

"What?" Travis stammered at the same time.

" Reroute it to the lift?" Hoshi echoed.

Sandosh's grin was toothier than usual and he reached over to pound Travis on the shoulder. "They know my voice, young one. Now, it's your turn to shine."

Travis tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He was stuck in a lift with one Tellarite and one attractive (but panicked) communications officer, ready to make his first transmission as an acting captain of a Class-J transport. He noticed that Trip made no wisecrack remarks, which Travis was so grateful.

"All right," he said. "I still think this is a really screwed-up way to mark my captaincy."

Hoshi giggled, but it sounded on the edge of hysteria. "It'll be one to tell the grandkids, Travis."

"You can tell 'em that you were there to keep me from having delusions of grandeur," he said warmly. He self-consciously pulled his shirt down in a nervous gesture, then cleared his throat again. "All right, Thor, patch 'em through."

"Answering their hail. Connection established, Captain."

He managed to sound somewhat authoritative, like Captain Archer on his Bridge. "Disabled tug, this is Captain John Raymond of the _Raven_." He kept his alibi; he didn't want to take any chances on the Orions knowing "Travis Mayweather" from the _Enterprise_. "Our sensors show that you're in trouble. Do you need assistance?"

The answer was immediate...and hysterical. "This is the tug _Ragnaron_ out of Auring Five! We've lost our engines and our protective plating! Please help us!"

_Hoshi sounds calm compared to this,_ Travis thought. Aloud, he said,"We can help you. Can you stabilize your drift so we can pull alongside?"

"Yes, yes, I think we can. Please hurry!"

"Keep this channel open to the Bridge. Captain to Helm."

"Helm," chirped Thor.

" Take us alongside their main docking port. _Ragnaron, _stand by."

" Standing by," said the unknown voice. It sounded a lot calmer, now that the situation wasn't as dire. Travis heard a hint of suspicion and belligerence as well. _Sounding more like an Orion. They're getting ready for us...can't let them know _we_ know what they're up to._

"Thor, let me know when we're close to docking," he said.

"Yes, Captain."

Travis took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Trip! We need to get out of here now! I can't command a rescue mission from a damned turbolift!"

Trip's voice came back in between snorts of laughter. That last sentence sounded hilarious, and Travis couldn't help but laugh himself. Even Hoshi managed a chuckle. "Almost there, Travis. Give me one more minute---"

And just like that, the lift shuddered and began to move again. They all sighed in relief as the lights came back on. Hoshi managed to push herself off Travis with a nervous giggle. "Sorry," she apologized.

"Don't worry about it. It never happened." Travis forced himself to think ahead. "Trip, get a repair party together. Sandosh, we need weapons. They're gonna be prepared for us."

Sandosh gave him his toothy grin again. "And we will be prepared for them."

* * *

The pressurization light turned green. Travis nodded at Sandosh and Thor, who proceeded him into the airlock. He climbed in after them, with Hoshi, Trip and the repair team behind. An Orion boy waited for them on the _Ragnarok_'s side, sidearm drawn. Sandosh bared his teeth; the Orion's aqua eyes widened as he took a step back.

"We come to help you and you greet us like this," Sandosh growled in a deep voice. Travis stared at him; he sounded completely different, like a stereotypical Tellarite with a bad attitude.

"But---"

"How pathetic. Give me that." With one swipe of his massive paw, he disarmed the Orion. The boy's long, thin arms were no match for Sandosh's bulk. "I should shoot you, but my captain would take the damages from my pay."

Travis pulled himself out of the airlock. The pure terror on the Orion's face was almost comical; Travis forced a stern look. "I'm Captain Raymond. You the captain?"

The Orion took one more look at Sandosh and gulped. "N-no, I'm not. She---he's on the Bridge, sent me here to greet you."

Travis gave an exaggerated sigh. "Well, let's go meet your captain. Engineer, see about stabilizing their drift and getting their engines back on-line."

"Sure thing, Cap'n," Trip drawled as he glowered at the Orion. "Where's your engine room?"

The poor Orion pointed to the left and Trip waved his group in that direction. Travis, Hoshi and Sandosh followed the Orion farther down the corridor. The walkways were much larger than _Enterprise_'s, much brighter and cheerful. Metal shone on doors and bulkheads, soft carpet shimmered under the the lights. _Yeah, more like a pleasure yacht,_ Travis thought in disgust. _Don't think I'd ever get myself one of these...too comfortable. _

"Fancy ship," he said casually. "Your captain must be wealthy to afford one of these."

"It's not ours...really. We're just borrowing it," said the boy. He shifted nervously. "Borrowing it for a while, that is. For this run. We're gonna give it back to him."

"Him? You mean your owner."

"Yeah, him."

Hoshi had her sensor out and studied the readings, then she showed the screen to Travis. The two Human signs were moving from the lower decks to the Bridge.

_Crawlways? _Travis mouthed.

_Probably, _Hoshi mouthed back.

He gave a silent sigh of relief. That meant Malcolm and Philippe were alive and headed towards the nerve center of the ship. That was exactly what Travis expected them to do. He looked at the service ladder at the end of the corridor. "That goes up to the Bridge?"

"Y-yes, sir. Captain. I mean---"

Travis felt a flash of sympathy for him; he was only doing his job. His wide eyes and trembling hands betrayed his youth. Travis put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. We'll just have a little chat, maybe arrange a trade, then we'll be on our way. We aren't pirates, you know."

The Orion blushed. "Um... neither are we. Really. We just do what we're told and they pay us. That's how we make a living."

"And you don't call yourselves pirates," Sandosh muttered to himself. "Bah."

Travis sighed and rolled his eyes. "All right, kid. You lead, since you know where you're going. Sandosh, make sure he doesn't fall off the ladder in pure fright, okay?"

The Orion started up the ladder, with Sandosh, Hoshi, and Travis following. Travis took his time, glancing below him every now and then. Finally, they reached the hatch leading up to the Bridge. The boy turned the wheel, cracked it open, and wriggled out. Sandosh motioned for Hoshi to hide behind him as he burst out like a cannonball. Several lasers flew past him as they rushed the defenders on the Bridge.

Travis clambered up the last few rungs, blaster at the ready. By the time he climbed out, he saw several Orions already sprawled unconscious on the deck. He saw a blur headed for him and he dove out of the way. Another Orion flew past him and slammed into the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hoshi come out of a crouch with a look of determination.

_Gotta ask her to show me some aikido moves, _Travis thought. He spotted a flash of green skin and black hair, and the last wisp of bright fabric disappearing into a small hatch under the helm console. Travis reached out and grabbed a slender ankle. The woman shrieked, trying to scrabble away.

"Oh no, you don't!" he shouted. He pulled, hearing her fingernails screech on the deck plating as she desperately tried to hang on. But Travis had the mass and the leverage and he reeled her back in like a fish. She immediately launched herself at him, those broken nails aimed at his throat. He pinned her arms behind her back and shoved her into the helm chair.

Defiant blue eyes glared at him. Then she smirked and whispered, "I still think that collar would have looked stunning on you."

"Don't even think about it," Travis replied. "You try it, and I'll wipe out more than that smirk."

"You're handsome when you're angry," she wheedled as she ran a finger up and down his wrist. "Perhaps we can talk, come to an agreement...maybe we can work together against Montclaire and his Earth minions. We Boomers must band together to survive, you know."

Travis glanced at a amused Sandosh and a glowering Hoshi. Hoshi stepped down to the lower deck, grabbed the Orion woman's chin, and stared coldly into the Orion's eyes. "If you've harmed him, I'll make sure you---"

She didn't finish the threat, for the lift doors exploded outward. Smoke poured onto the Bridge, but Sandosh touched a button for the fans to lift the smoke away. When it cleared, it revealed a surprised Malcolm Reed and Philippe Trieste. Both men were grimy from their crawl through the lower decks. The Armory Officer blinked in the sudden silence.

"I suppose we're a few moments late---"Malcolm began, just before Hoshi nearly bowled him over.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Notes: I saw "Singularity" again and I wondered how Travis would feel about his own Captain's Chair...**

**Rating: T**

**R/S pairing**

**Eight**

_Now I know how it feels to sit in a captain's chair for six hours. It isn't all it's cracked up to be. I wonder if I could ask Trip to lower _my_ chair a centimeter or two. _Travis did his best not to slouch; it was as comfortable as it he wanted, and even came with its own cupholder and a vibrating massage button. He was tempted to try the massage, but knew it would only put him to sleep. He wondered how Captain Archer could do it, day in and day out.

"ETA to Alpha Centauri, Thor?" he asked.

"Twelve hours, fifteen minutes," chittered Thor from the helm. "On course at Warp 2."

"I'm gonna get something to eat and maybe catch a few winks. Let me know if anything comes up."

"Yes, Captain."

Travis got up from the chair and went to the lift. He glanced over his shoulder to see Captain Sandosh's _Vhrum_ pacing them at an easy speed. The Tellarite was glad to have command of his ship back; he insisted Travis take command of the tug, much to the enthusiasm of everyone else. He'd only gave an embarrassed smile and accepted with grace.

Now, after hours of poring over star charts and possible entry routes into the Centauri system, he had a new respect for Captain Archer. Being captain of a ship, whether it be the NX-01 or an RH-900, was no picnic. Not only did he try to learn some of the tug's important systems, he discussed security tactics with Malcolm, helped Hoshi with some communication protocols and talk with Philippe about what they'd do once they reached Alpha Centauri and EdML. It wasn't until Trip pulled him aside and told him to take a break.

"Travis, you're doing a good job, but you can't be everywhere at once. Even Cap'n Archer isn't superhuman. A good cap'n knows how to delegate to his subordinates. Let 'em do their jobs and you do yours."

"Yeah, you're right," Travis admitted sheepishly. "It's just that---"

"You don't wanna screw up. Yeah, I understand that."

"We nearly lost Philippe and Malcolm. I don't want to lose any other members of my crew if I can help it."

Trip nodded and clapped a hand over his shoulder. "Y'know, you sounded like Jon's echo for a minute. You gotta trust your instincts and trust your people. It raises the chances of 'em comin' back alive."

He managed a sad smile at the commander's words. In their years on the Enterprise, he knew people who hadn't come back. It weighed heavily on everyone, but he hadn't thought about how it would affect Jonathan Archer. Travis guessed that Archer probably remembered every face and every name.

_Not only Jon Archer. I remember after that deal with the Xindi how Malcolm visited the family of every person we lost, from Corporal Hawkins to Major Hayes. I'm sure _he_ remembers too._

He understood them better, now that he had joined their ranks, so to speak.

"Thanks, Trip," Travis said. "I'll remember." Then he'd gone to the captain's quarters and tried to go to sleep. It still took him a long time. When he'd awakened, he went to the Bridge with a new purpose.

"Travis!" Philippe shouted from behind him. Travis whirled around to see a freshly scrubbed Philippe in the casual clothing of a tug's helmsman. Of course, "casual" was a relative word. He grinned at the spidersilk shirt and pants.

"I see you've recovered enough to regain your fashion sense, Philippe," he teased.

The younger man shrugged. "I had a chat with Oidra. She says she wants to talk to you."

"What for? I'm not gonna go into a room with her alone. She still thinks that collar would bring out the color of my eyes."

"She has an idea to slip us past my uncle Guillem's security protocols. Malcolm and Hoshi's with her now. Hoshi insisted on guarding Malcolm's back. She trusts Oidra as far as she can throw her and I don't blame her."

_Translation: Hoshi's not taking chances on Malcolm getting into trouble again. _The thought made him chuckle. "All right, I'd better see what Oidra has to say. C'mon."

When Travis stepped into the room, the tension was so thick that he wondered if he needed to wade in with a phaser pistol. The Orion woman sat on her bed, wrapped in little more than a satin robe, her fall of black hair cascading over her shoulder. Malcolm stood against the doorframe with his arms across his chest. Travis didn't see Hoshi at first, but then he spotted the communications officer sitting in a chair in the corner, a wicked blade laying unsheathed across her lap. He recognized it as an Andorian knife that General Shran had given her.

He caught Malcolm's look of amusement, but that amusement faded as Travis faced Oidra. The Orion smiled brightly at him and patted the mattress next to her. "Care to sit down, Captain?"

"I'd rather stand, thanks. I've been sitting in a chair for six hours straight." He stood between the door and the bed, and Oidra gave him a look of hurt, which he ignored. "Philippe tells me you've got an idea to bypass Montclaire's security. Why do you want to help us?"

Oidra smiled and leaned against her pillow, like a cat stretching itself. The satin robe shifted with her movement. Travis tried to turn his head away, but found that he couldn't. Hoshi's throat-clearing broke the woman's spell.

The Orion woman turned and gave her a dirty look. "I'm not trying to seduce your man again. If you'd like, I could give you some pointers later. These walls between rooms are so very thin._"_

Malcolm blushed and Hoshi only gave her a sardonic smirk. "No thanks, I can handle it on my own, thank you."

"Oidra," Travis said, with a touch of menace in his voice. "I don't have the patience for bedroom games right now. Either get to the point or quit wasting my time."

His tone made her raise a surprised eyebrow, but she said, "Guillem Montclaire leased this tug to me. I have the codes to ensure safe passage through the Centauri system. If his people broadcast the prompt and you answer incorrectly, Montclaire will know our mission has failed and will blow us out of space. I can make sure you get to EdML in one piece for young Trieste---"she nodded at Philippe, "---to take his rightful place."

Philippe only gazed at her coolly as he said, "You're willing to switch sides against Guillem? Why?"

She met his gaze. "Because even I can see that you deserve to be the head of EdML, not him. He is a fool, and he will bring down the wrath of not only Earth but the other colonies as well. Guillem will destroy the company and all that your parents have worked for. I certainly will not stand for that, and I know that neither will you, no matter how you feel about EdML as a whole."

Oidra reached over to the card reader at the side of the bed and slipped a datachip out of its slot. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it in the air towards Travis, who caught it easily. "Here is a list of ships and captains who are massing against Guillem Montclaire. You might find allies among them. Some of them are even attached to your precious Starfleet."

Travis scowled as he turned the card in his hands. "Really. There aren't many ships in the fleet yet, and none of them are within a thousand light years from Alpha Centauri."

"That's where you're wrong, Captain Mayweather." Her mouth twisted into a grim smile. "Guillem has done something stupid to bring down the wrath of a very powerful man. One that has the power to order Alpha Centauri destroyed, if need be. All he has to do is give the orders to his ships and the problem is solved. And he would do it, too, if it would protect Earth."

Travis gritted his teeth. "You're kidding. Admiral Forrest can't do that on his own. Starfleet Command wouldn't let him."

Oidra only inclined her head at him. "Contact your Captain Archer. He'll know what I say is true. And my way is the only way for us to stop Guillem from provoking a bloodbath that would wipe out every Boomer in space. Because if he finds out what you've done, you're going to wish that all he did was kill you."

* * *

"You believe all this nonsense?" asked Captain Sandosh. The Tellarite scowled and leaned forward in the viewer.

Travis shrugged. "I had Hoshi check over the communication relays; she's bypassed the Orions' spy equipment, but we can't be a hundred percent sure it's safe. I'm not going to contact Captain Archer anytime soon. As for the security codes, Malcolm's done a system analysis of what Oidra gave him. It's a random sequence, but Hoshi thinks she can find the right pattern."

"And what of your Admiral Forrest? She has grossly overestimated his abilities and scope of command. I doubt he could just order his ships to attack Alpha Centauri as she claims."

"Me too, but I won't underestimate what he can do. I hate to say it, but she's right when she said Forrest has a lot of influence in Starfleet. It sounds like he's connected with the Montclaires in a major way; I wonder what Guillem did to make him mad." Travis shook his head. "I guess we'll find out pretty soon."

"Whatever happens, know that I and the crew of the_ Vhrum _are at your disposal, Captain Mayweather_."_

"Thank you, Captain Sandosh. I'll contact you before we reach the Centauri system border. Raven, out."

Travis closed the communications channel and rubbed his eyes. He didn't trust Oidra; she was an opportunistic mercenary, willing to switch sides when it benefited her. Not to mention the fact she'd wanted to snap an electric collar on him like a dog. And the fact that she'd kidnapped Malcolm and Philippe and tried to transport them to Guillem Montclaire. And the fact that she'd tried to seduce Malcolm (Malcolm had privately admitted it, but he insisted he had acted like a gentleman) and Philippe (who denied any wrongdoing, even as he blushed like a tomato) and even him, in front of witnesses.

_What a slimy witch . Thank God not all Boomers are like her._ A hail from the bridge interrupted his thoughts. "Yes, Hoshi?"

"Travis, we're being hailed by a transport. He's insisting on talking to you. It's urgent."

"Who is it?"

She tried to answer, but her voice caught. "I think you'd better answer it, Travis."

A large knot seemed to form in his stomach as he pushed the accept button. The face of his brother appeared on the screen. Travis started at the exhausted, harried look on Paul Mayweather's face. "Paul!" he burst out. "You all right? How's Mom?"

"Travis, can you use some extra hands?" Paul looked directly at him, and the glaze of delayed shock stunned Travis. "_Horizon_'s taken some pretty bad damage, and I'm afraid we're gonna have to abandon ship."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.**

**Notes: Travis finds out what happened to his family. **

Nine

"How close is the nearest ship?" Travis demanded as he stalked out of the lift. The people on the tug's Bridge took one look at his face and immediately hurried at their tasks. The only one who wasn't cowed was Hoshi; she turned to him with a look of sympathy.

"_Columbia_ is four days away, and she's the closest. _Enterprise_ is six, and that's if they red-line the engines," Trip said from the engineering console, with an expression that clearly said, _They'd better not, not while I'm not there! _"Looks like _Horizon's _just outside of the Alpha Centauri system borders."

Travis scowled and said, "So much for the Centaurians sending help, if _Horizon's_ not in their territory. Thor, alter course to intercept with _Horizon_. Hoshi, advise Captain Sandosh on our change."

Thor chittered as he made the necessary adjustments. "Course laid in, Captain. Increasing speed to warp 4."

"Thanks, Thor. Hoshi, send Paul a message that we're on our way." Travis glanced at Rudis, the young Orion boy who had greeted them when they'd come aboard. "What's on your mind, Rudis? You look worried."

Rudis turned from the environmental station, his face going bronze-green in embarrassment. "Captain Travis, I just thought of something. EdML should be able to see us on sensors by now...what will Montclaire think when he sees one of his tugs helping a Class-J?"

Travis's mouth quirked up in grim humor. "It should give his image a boost. Whatever happened to 'Boomers stick together'? Montclaire's all talk, but it's about time someone proved it.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, they approached the _Horizon_ as she drifted within a field of debris. Travis's heart twisted as he saw the gaping holes in the cargo holds and large scratches along both port and starboard sides. He had to close his eyes. _Oh God. That's my home and my family. I'm gonna rip whoever hurt my family from limb to limb and---_

He felt a hand on his shoulder. When he opened his eyes, he saw Philippe standing behind him, his blue eyes intense with emotion. "I'm sorry, Travis," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks, Philippe." They heard a sharp intake of breath from the sensory station and they both turned to look at Malcolm. The Armory officer pressed his lips together in an angry line. "What is it, Malcolm?"

"Looks like _Horizon_ wasn't the only one caught in this mess, Travis. I'm reading debris from at least four different ships, perhaps five. Various cargo vessels and support ships. They must have been traveling in a convoy when they were attacked."

Travis nodded. It made sense to travel in number when there was a threat; the problem was coordinating the ships at the same time. Egos and schedules got in the way. Boomers were proud, independent people, beholden only to themselves. They would much rather be the masters of their own destinies.

"Any survivors from the other ships, Malcolm?" He knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.

"None, Travis. I'm sorry. _Horizon_'s in pretty bad shape herself. She's leaking air."

"Let's get them out of there." He nodded at Hoshi. "Advise Captain Sandosh we're going in. Thor, take us at one-quarter impulse. Philippe, Hoshi, Thor, Trip, with me. Malcolm, keep an eye out 'cause whoever did this might be back."

Malcolm nodded and moved from the sensory station to the captain's chair. A smile played on Travis's lips as he realized that unlike him, Malcolm fit the chair perfectly. _Maybe they'll be a time when we all get ships of our own. Captain Mayweather. Captain Sato. Captain Reed. Captain Trieste. In about twenty years or so. Maybe. _The thought was a lot more sobering now than it was a month ago.

He shifted impatiently from foot to foot as the tug maneuvered itself alongside _Horizon_. When he realized what he was doing, he made himself stop. Again, he caught Philippe's look of complete understanding. Another long moment passed before the airlocks were attached and pressurized. When the doors rolled open, he wriggled through before they were fully opened. A _Horizon _crewmember gave a sharp cry at the sight of him.

"Travis!" the woman screamed and threw herself at him. He held her close as she sobbed in his arms. "They said you'd come all the way from _Enterprise._ They said you'd bring help."

"I'm here now, Sharon," he whispered. "Not exactly from _Enterprise_, but I'm here now." He looked up and said, "This is Sharon Milfour, one of our mechanics. Sharon, this is Philippe, Hoshi, Thor and Trip."

A shy smile passed over her face as she looked at Trip. She wore coveralls that had been the color of a sunset; at least, before it had been splashed with engine fluid and phase coolant. "Commander Tucker. It's a pleasure to meet you at last; Travis and Paul have talked a lot about you."

Trip sketched a bow. "Hopefully, all good things, ma'am. Hate to break this reunion, but---"

"Our engines are pretty much slag; whoever they were knew where to hit us." Sharon's mouth twisted. "We've got a handful of engineers, Commander, that's all."

"Show me the way, and you're not Starfleet, so call me Trip." He followed her just as Captain Paul Mayweather approached the airlock. Paul covered the distance quickly between them and the two brothers exchanged a wordless hug. Travis noticed the stiffness in his brother's posture, the utter desolation.

"Thanks for coming for us, Big Brother," Paul murmured. He looked directly in Travis's eyes and his eyes were shadowed. "We've got a lot of wounded. Tried to get as many survivors as we could---"

Travis nodded. "We've got room on the tug to spare. C'mon, let's get everyone to safety. Mom?"

"She's topside, giving first aid. She is the resident medic, you know." An exhausted smile didn't reach Paul's eyes. "You know, you've got a lot to explain, like how you ended up captaining an RH-900, especially one of Old Man Trieste's."

"Later. It's kinda a long story." He followed Paul's gaze at Philippe. Despite the hair coloring, Paul had recognized Philippe, and his expression hardened. "He's with us, Paul, and he's not a spy for EdML."

"He'd better not be." Paul growled. Philippe met his stare head-on, but said nothing. Hoshi cleared her throat and broke the tension between them.

"Philippe and I can help with the transfer," she volunteered.

"Thanks, Hoshi." He followed Paul through _Horizon_'s decks, his anger rising at the signs of damage. Shattered walkways, blown-out compartments, flickering lighting, piles of debris in their path. The entire deck of living quarters was roped off; Travis's old quarters in B-6 had been one of those exposed to space, and the memories that his mother had so carefully saved were all gone.

"Who did this, Paul? Who attacked you?"

Paul didn't turn around. "It happened so fast, Travis. We had one short warning and that was it. Something about breaking Cargo Transit Authority rules, something about somebody hauling contraband, then boom! Next thing we know, _Tracy's Pride_, _Chelsea,_ and _Sydney_ are all gone. There wasn't a single damn illegal thing in our holds. We were all legit."

"They thought you were hauling contraband?"

Paul scowled. "Don't even go there. You know Mom would kill me if I even thought about it. Both of us were right there in the cargo hold while we were being loaded, and the other captains shared their manifests with us. Even Old Rooster, you remember him---"

"The quartermaster. Hell, yeah, I remember him."

"---he went over to the other ships and visually inspected every freaking container and metal box on those ships. He was so paranoid." Paul's voice became a harsh whisper. "He was fast asleep when we were attacked."

Travis swallowed hard as his imagination supplied Old Rooster's last moments. He pushed the visions away as he climbed up to the auxiliary Bridge. Paul released the hatch and stepped aside for Travis to emerge onto the deck. A tall, dark-skinned woman turned towards him with a furious look on her face.

"Paul, I told you to bring those medical supplies a long time ago. Where were you---?" A look of complete shock passed across her face and the hypospray in her hand clattered to the deck with a loud ring. "Travis? Oh my God---"

"Mom," Travis choked out as she launched herself into his arms with a sob. He could count the number of times Rhianna Mayweather had broken down in public, and those times had been very desperate. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as he held her.

Hoshi and Philippe quietly went to the _Horizon_'s survivors, who were crowded in the auxiliary bridge like sardines. Hoshi looked up at Travis and said, "Travis, we're going to have to hurry fast. It's beginning to feel a little stuffy in here."

He nodded and brought himself to the problem at hand. "Paul, is this everyone?"

"Everyone we could find from all the ships, Travis. We've got a few of them on makeshift stretchers already."

Travis flipped open his communicator and called, "Mayweather to Reed."

"Reed here." He saw Paul's grin as the familiar clipped accent echoed in the room. Paul looked over at Hoshi, who returned his smile.

"Malcolm, we've got wounded incoming. Get Rishi and Don'wa and anyone else you can pull to help. I think we can use the Mess Room as a temporary infirmary until we can get to a med facility."

"Acknowledged. Might I suggest that we press some of our...more recalcitrant guests into service? Perhaps they would have a change of heart once they are actively involved in the rescue."

It was so like Malcolm to suggest such a thing. Travis chuckled and replied, "Go ahead, but warn them that if they so much as harm a hair or swipe a strip of gold that I'm gonna space them with no questions asked."

"With pleasure, Travis. Reed, out."

He switched channels and warned Captain Sandosh of their intentions. The Tellarite volunteered the services of his own medic and loading crew in the effort. He glanced at Paul, who nodded assent. _Paul'd be an idiot to refuse a medic. _

"All right, let's get them out of here." He smiled at his mother. "Mom, we're gonna take good care of you guys."

Rhianna's smile trembled at the corners. "You never told me you got another promotion. Captain Archer must've given you more responsibility to put you in charge of this."

His cheeks flamed in embarrassment. "Um...actually, Captain Archer isn't here and neither is _Enterprise. _We're kinda free-lance right now." At his mother's stunned expression, he said, "I'll explain everything when we're on our way."

They began the transfer of the wounded. Throughout the entire operation, Travis was aware of the look that Paul was giving him, and he hoped his brother would understand. This was promising to be quite the confrontation and Travis wasn't looking forward to it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.**

**Rating: T, for some language**

**Notes: Looks like this "little plot bunny" decided to become a short series about Travis, the Boomers, and the Trade Consortiums. Hope nobody minds, LOL. :) Since there was hardly anything in the series that dealt with this, thought I'd expand on it a little bit.**

**You finally find out about Admiral Forrest's involvement in all this (it ain't as sinister as people insinuated earlier) and Travis and Paul have a difficult confrontation. **

**Look out for "Deadly Negotiations", the second part to "Boomer Bust", coming soon!**

**BIG thanks (and lotsa cookies!) to Begoogled, DinahD, Volley and JadziaKathryn for commenting!**

**Reviews and comments and ideas are always welcome from everybody! Thanks!**

**Here we go...**

* * *

**Ten**

Travis spent another restless night in the captain's quarters, tossing and turning in his bed. It was more comfortable than his own bunk on _Enterprise_, but that wasn't the problem. The _Ragnarok_ had docked at Centauri Medlab One more than twenty-four hours ago. The station's surgeon general was more than willing to accommodate the _Horizon_ survivors. In fact, one look at Philippe at the helm station was all it took for Surgeon General Bryson to offer an unconditional offer of assistance.

Since then, _Ragnarok_'s crew had been given a hero's welcome. The comlines buzzed with requests for interviews and generous contracts from more than just EdML. Philippe and Travis sat in the captain's room and waded their way through the politics; Travis received a not-so-subtle crash course in the intricacies of trade politics.

Worse, Paul had been avoiding him like the plague. Right now, he was on Medlab One, seeing to the comfort of the former _Horizon_ crew. Travis sighed in his sleep. Suddenly, Travis was thrust in the spotlight as the heroic captain, and Paul was just a Boomer captain who had lost five ships, including his own. Travis's heart was sore, and even his mother's words had failed to cheer his spirits.

"Paul's been through a lot the last few months, Travis. That cheerful face on the other end of his transmissions was just a facade. Now he's lost not only his home, but his crew, and he feels responsible for the loss of the other cargo ships as well."

Travis had shaken his head. "I've been trying to talk to him, Mom, but he's always found a reason to be somewhere else. He can give Malcolm a run for being invisible." Rhianna Mayweather chuckled at the comparison, but he went on, "The attack wasn't his fault; he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Rhianna reached over and put a hand on his arm. "That's where you're wrong, Travis. I've got my own suspicions...I didn't want to put a wedge between my own sons, especially in these uncertain times, but you have a right to know."

"Know what?"

She sighed and said, "Paul talked to some of the other trading consortiums after René Trieste died. I wasn't privy to any of those conversations, but I suspect they were offering him some lucrative contracts to haul particular kinds of cargo. He told them he'd consider it, but he hadn't gotten back to any of them yet."

Travis stared at her. "Which consortiums?"

"Delhario Incorporated, Vrhiuy Enterprises, Procyon Private Group, four or five others. EdML was one of them, too. They were persuasive, but Paul was reluctant to do business with them, for good reason. Then, the captain of the _Sydney_ came to him and they decided to band together for this run to Centauri. Safety in numbers. Paul agreed."

"You think somebody panicked when they saw the Boomers coming together in a convoy. They thought the shipping captains were banding together against the trading consortiums?"

"I do. Paul told you about the short transmission before they attacked...they specifically mentioned the Cargo Transit Authority. The powers that be don't want the Boomers to organize themselves." Rhianna shook her head. "They're scared, Travis. Very scared. Now that Philippe's back..."

Travis nodded. "God, what a mess."

Yes, this was a mess. Travis swore again and sat up in his bunk. He had to talk to Paul. After dressing, he hit the comm button. "Hoshi?"

"It's Thor, Travis. Hoshi's with Malcolm at Medlab."

He frowned. "Are they all right?"

"They're all right; your mom's visiting with some of the _Horizon_ crew and they tagged along."

"Is my brother with them?"

"No. Last I heard he was at MedLab's Comm Station."

"Thanks, Thor."

"You're welcome. Oh, by the way, you have a couple of messages waiting at the station. Looks pretty important."

"I'm on my way."

Travis walked through the airlock that connected _Ragnarok_ with MedLab. The station's halls smelled like lemon polish and the bright lights gave a cheerful look to the place. He found the Comm Station with little trouble. To his dismay, Paul had just left the room, and the controller didn't know where _Horizon_'s captain had went.

The woman gave him a shrug and gave him her full attention. The hero worship in her eyes made Travis distinctly uncomfortable. If Paul had to put up with this on the station, no wonder he didn't want anything to do with Travis. Travis felt a stab of guilt; it wasn't fair to his brother. _At the wrong place at the wrong time. Damn._

"Even the head of Starfleet called for you. I think he really wants to speak with you, Captain Mayweather."

"Admiral Forrest?" Travis's heart plunged into his stomach. So much for sneaking Philippe under EdML's noses; they'd pretty much trumpeted Philippe's return with a bugle chorus. _I'll probably get chewed out big time. Great. _"Can't keep him waiting. Can I have a private station?":

Three minutes later, Travis sat in an isolated alcove, waiting for the connection to San Francisco. Forrest's image materialized on the screen; Travis brought himself up to stiff attention. "Admiral Forrest. I---"

"At ease, Lieutenant," Forrest replied. He regarded Travis with a wry smile. "You've caused quite a stir here, I'd say. I've had countless messages from civilian liaisons asking for your services, plus Admiral Leonard's suggested jumping you to full commander and a position on the _Challenger_."

"_What?" _Travis felt sick. "Sir, I―I---"

"I owe you an explanation, Travis," Forrest said with a sigh. He noticed the admiral's use of his first name, which made his discomfort worse. "I've already talked with Captain Archer; the Enterprise is enroute to Centauri; they should be arriving in a week. Archer knows what's going on, and he gave me an earful. Which, by the way, I completely deserved."

Despite himself, Travis chuckled at the image of Archer chewing out his superior. It took a lot for Forrest to admit he'd messed up. The humor vanished as Forrest's expression became hard. "We needed someone to gather information about the trade consortiums and companies. Your name came up, as well as Philippe Trieste's. I was reluctant to get Philippe involved, for I knew his family. Specifically Sandrine Montclaire."

"You knew his mother?" Travis asked. It didn't surprise him; that long-ago conversation in Archer's ready room and Malcolm's observation: _Did you notice he referred them by first name?_ Of course, Forrest hadn't known he and Malcolm had overheard that conversation, and Travis wasn't going to enlighten him.

"She came to me because she was concerned about an assassination attempt on her husband. Someone had tried to kill René more than once before. She pleaded with me to protect her son; I told her Philippe would be safe on Enterprise. Then she was killed, and René not long after her. I had to do something."

Nothing surprised Travis anymore. "So his parents' deaths weren't accidents. Does Philippe know?"

"He suspects." The strain and guilt showed clearly on his face. "She'd kept Philippe in the succession and Philippe needed to go back to EdML to take care of things. It was the perfect opportunity to find out just how deep the corruption ran among the consortiums, and what we could do about it."

Travis gritted his teeth as his anger simmered under the surface. "You used us."

"We underestimated the volatility of the situation, Travis. Your tangle with the Orions pretty much blew secrecy out of the water---" Forrest held up a hand at his indignant snort. "Not your fault; I'm not blaming you for that. You had to go after Philippe and Malcolm Reed. Then the attack on your family's ship and the other transports...you got there before Starfleet could. Now you're squarely in the spotlight. Guillem Montclaire's forced to acknowledge all the things you've done and put a positive spin on it. After all, you used one of his vessels. Never mind that he was the one who sent it in the first place to kidnap---and possibly murder---his own nephew."

"What a bastard." He didn't apologize for his language, and he noticed Forrest didn't call him on it.

"He can't make a move against Philippe now without the entire sector on his head, and he knows it." The admiral scowled at Travis's stony expression. "I'm not a fool. I know that Montclaire's just playing for time, waiting for the right opportunity. If anything, the situation's gotten worse among the trading consortiums. The attack on your family's convoy amounts to a declaration of war; they're scrambling to protect themselves. The Cargo Trading Authority's in full panic mode; they've asked Starfleet to intervene."

"And what will you do, Admiral?" Travis asked.

"We're going to provide sector security and a liaison team for negotiations. They want you to head that liaison team."

His jaw dropped. "Sir---"

"Hear me out. You're in a unique position, having grown up a Boomer and being in Starfleet. You aren't the only one, but you're now the most high-profile one. You have connections to the Boomer Fleet, and now with Philippe, you also have an connection with EdML. All the trade consortiums want a piece of the pie, so to speak, and they all want to talk to you. Earth can't pass up this golden opportunity." Forrest leaned back again in his seat with an apologetic look. "Whether you like it or not, Travis, you're smack in the center of all the action."

Travis fought the temptation to hang his head in his hands. All I ever wanted was to fly the first Warp 5 ship and explore the galaxy. Now I'm stuck here. He could hear Trip Tucker's voice in his head._ Karma's a bitch, ain't it? _

Yeah, he was truly stuck. At the cost of his family's livelihood. No wonder Paul hated him now. Now that the Horizon was no more, what were the Mayweathers going to do? Recoup their losses, find a new ship? Was that even possible?

"Travis."

Something in Forrest's tone made him look up. The admiral gazed at him with sympathy. "I know this comes at a personal cost to you, and I'm truly sorry. Rest assured that I'll personally take care of your family. They've paid the price for all of this and I want to make it up to them."

"I'm not sure if my brother would accept your charity, Admiral," he said truthfully. "Boomers can be proud, you know. I think he blames me and Philippe for what happened to Horizon."

"I think Paul would surprise you. Give him a chance." Forrest managed a smile. "I'll talk with you more later, all right? Think about my proposal, talk to Philippe and Paul, and since the Enterprise is on her way, get in touch with Jon Archer. I think he can give you some sound advice on the matter."

"Yes, sir," he replied in resignation.

"Take care, Travis. Starfleet Command, out." As Forrest's image winked out, he sat there for a long time, contemplating the future, and his reluctant part in it.

* * *

"Travis, I gotta talk with you." 

He glanced over his shoulder at his brother. Paul Mayweather leaned in the doorway, his arms crossed, in an unconscious imitation of Malcolm Reed. Travis recoiled at the steely look in his eyes; he'd never looked like that before, and Travis felt a sharp pang of fear._ Uh-oh. Now I'm _really _gonna get it._

Paul's next words weren't what he expected. "Tanaka Enterprises offered me a contract. A fleet of six ships under my command, with the chance of part ownership. A mix of Class-J's and RH-900s, and they've promised me a pick of the new Hunley-class transports when they come out in the next couple of months."

"You takin' the deal? Sounds pretty lucrative."

"I'm seriously considering it. The Cargo Trading Authority's offered us a nice compensation for our losses. Mom's talking with them right now." Paul regarded his brother with an unreadable look. "I guess there're advantages to being the younger sibling of Starfleet's newest star."

The anger and irritation he'd managed to keep pent-up abruptly exploded. "Christ, you think I wanted all this to happen? All they wanted was for me to get Philippe Trieste home, that was it. Suddenly, they're making me into some kind of savior, someone who can bail them out of this mess, and come out of it smelling like a rose. I'd turn back time and get _Horizon_ back. You and Mom are too precious for me to lose. I don't want to lose either of you."

Paul's face didn't change. "I think you lost me when you showed up with Old Man Trieste's son. Never thought of you as someone who'd consort with the enemy. You remember why Dad didn't want to mess with them? They're sneaky sons-of-bitches who make money off our misfortunes. Dad knew who they really were. He'd be rolling in his grave to see you now."

He scowled. "Don't drag Dad into this. He's not here."

"You're right. He isn't, but you are and I am. Ever since I became _Horizon_'s captain, all I heard was how I'd never live up to Dad's expectations, how I'll be second best compared to you. My brother, the helmsman of the grand _Enterprise_, and me, the cargo captain, expected to haul stuff around the galaxy. Everyone talked about you all the time, especially when the newsvids were screaming about your latest escapades at the edges of known space."

Paul narrowed his eyes. "But I didn't want you to know how bad it'd gotten. Didn't want you to feel guilty, feel sorry for me. So I pretended everything was okay. We were doing fine, making a profit, keeping afloat, so that was all good. Then the convoy was destroyed and I heard 'em say, 'You know, if your brother was here, he would've kept us in one piece'. And that did it for me. My own crew, Dad's crew, basically told me I was an incompetent captain, and they'd much rather have had you."

Travis closed his eyes at the hurt, the jealousy, the anger in Paul's voice. "God, Paul, you should've told me. I would've set 'em straight---"

"But now, I'm gonna get out of Dad's shadow and yours." Travis opened his eyes to see his brother smirking at him. "I'm starting over with a new crew, a new company, a new life. Mom wanted me to name the new ship _Horizon_, in honor of the family. If circumstances were different, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but the game's different now."

"Then what are you gonna name your new command?"

Paul's smirk widened. "_Raven's Revenge, _with Tanaka Enterprises, out of Vega. If you're ever in the neighborhood, let me know and I'll give you a tour. Who knows, Big Brother, maybe we can share a cargo run and it'd be like old times."

Then, abruptly, Paul turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Travis speechless in his wake. Travis stared after him long after he was gone, his mind and heart numb beyond belief.

"Yeah, just like old times," he whispered dully.

_**The story will continue in Part Two of the Boomer Bust Series: Deadly Negotiations. **_


End file.
